


The Case of the Anachronistic Abecedarian

by gardnerhill



Category: Doctor Who, Sherlock Holmes (1984 TV), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Crack, Gen, Historical References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-03
Updated: 2013-07-03
Packaged: 2017-12-17 13:07:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/867882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gardnerhill/pseuds/gardnerhill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A portly client knows much about the letter A.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Case of the Anachronistic Abecedarian

**Author's Note:**

> For JWP 2013 Prompt #2: **From A to Z:** Use at least two of the following words: abdicate, automaton, allele, Zarathustra, zither. 
> 
> Further note: That fellow Wells had nothing to do with this.

“Abdicate… Acts of the Apostles…Apes…”

Watson held his face absolutely still as their remarkable client, speaking through odd gestures and tics, pompously and ponderously described the work he had been engrossed in. The very last thing he wanted to do was to frighten off or anger the man – judging from Holmes’ enrapt expression, here was a singular case for his great brain to ponder indeed.

“Automaton…Azazel.” The large middle-aged man exhaled. “Well, gentlemen, I was quite pleased to finally have gotten entirely through the letter A and was looking forward to what B would bring me.”

_If he treats us both to a recitation through Zarathustra and Zither and Zyzyx, I should have Mrs Hudson bring up tea – and possibly breakfast._

But it was Holmes who broke it off. “And that was when you lost your manuscript, is it not?”

The client started. “It is indeed! Damme, what I have heard about you is true!” His face fell again. “I-I was in the market, and had gotten separated from my travelling companion. I must have lost it there, somewhere. But it’s so much bigger than when I was here last. London…so many people…the very buildings are different!” He buried his face in his hands. “My work. Months of work, and research. Must I restart?”

Despite the wonderment of this visitor, Watson’s heart was immediately wrung with sympathetic pity for a fellow scrivener. During Maiwand, the only thing that had hurt worse than his arm was the loss of his diary in the retreat.

Holmes smiled with the peculiar gentleness with which he eased his most frantic clients, and patted the man’s shoulder. “Have no fear, Dr. Johnson. You will complete your dictionary. I have no doubt of it. Perhaps I may be able to save you a good deal of re-writing. Describe exactly what the manuscript looked like.”

Dr. Johnson resumed his description of his lost papers, and how thoroughly he’d combed the area where he’d seen them last, “with my travelling companion.” Holmes nodded and listened and Watson took notes. That they were dealing with a man they’d studied in English History, a man who’d written the first dictionary, was all but secondary; the problem was engrossing and Holmes clearly had a feeling that the precious papers had not simply been binned but possibly sold to an art dealer or pawnshop if they’d been taken for mint-condition historical documents.

“Oh Mr. Holmes!” a voice called through the door, with a British accent that seemed an odd blend of about 20 dialects from all over Great Britain and Ireland. “Sorry to interrupt, but everyone could probably use some refreshment!”

Dr. Samuel Johnson turned around at the sound of his travelling companion’s voice. “Come in, Doctor!”

Dr. Watson smiled at Holmes’ piqued look – perhaps from the interruption, but possibly also because he was the only person here who did not carry that honorific.

The bizarrely-dressed black woman who’d arrived at 221B with an historical paragon of English letters (out of an odd blue kiosk that had certainly not been on the street corner a moment before) now entered with a bewildered Mrs Hudson, carrying trays with teapots, cake, biscuits and orange slices.

“Women voting, you say?” Mrs. Hudson said, clearly continuing a conversation. “Men fly to the Moon? And contraception’s legal? Gracious, that’ll save ever so many lives.”

“Why you could easily live to vote yourself, Mrs. H,” the Doctor said. “Don’t want to spoil the surprise and tell you exactly when, you understand.”

“Outlandish,” Dr. Johnson rumbled to Holmes and Watson, all of them watching the women. “But one becomes accustomed to the outlandish surprisingly quickly.”

“Neither one of us is exactly from around here,” the Doctor said cheerily, her multi-coloured waist-length braids swaying over a powder-blue corset and black leather skirt, “but everything can still be solved with a good cup of tea, can’t it? Let’s have a bite before the work resumes. Sit, Mrs. Hudson, I’ll pour.”

“Er…I’ll just be downstairs, if you don’t mind,” Mrs. Hudson said. “This is all a bit much. And it’s not my place to sit with the gentlemen while Mr. Holmes has a client.”

The Doctor nodded. “It can be a bit confusing, seeing people from either end of an H.G. Wells novel pop in and out of your place. But do join us if you change your mind later. In the meantime, read this.” She put a book on Mrs. Hudson’s tea-tray whose author was listed as G. Greer. “It’ll change your life.” She resumed pouring the tea when the door closed behind the housekeeper.

“I have three possible leads on what happened to Dr. Johnson’s papers,” Holmes said. “There remains only to revisit the site and talk to a few people I know.”

“Excellent.” The Doctor took a drink of tea and nodded sympathetically to her companion. “I really felt bad when you lost your papers during what should have just been a quick look at London architecture, Dr. Johnson. Fortunately we were in just the right time to get the right help to find them again!”

“Fresh oranges? In winter?” Watson beamed as he took a slice. “Thank you, Miss – er, Doctor. This is a very generous gift.”

“There’s a lovely hydroponic garden in the TARDIS.” The Doctor winked at him and peeled her own slice. “Someday I may tell you both how I saved the world with a satsuma.”

“And women’s suffrage is assured?” Watson smiled. “Mary will be very pleased to hear that.”


End file.
